The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  Recently a new dance had found its way to Paris and London from Vienna. It was a great innovation as, in the formal dances of the past, the man had never touched his partner, except to link hands in certain movements, whereas in this audacious measure, called the waltz, the man put his arm round the woman's waist and whirled her away across the floor. Using the pyramid-shaped skirt of a woman as a solid base and sticks with snow packed tightly round them to support the legs of the man and the arms of both, Roger spent most of the day creating a waltzing couple out of snow. His efforts delighted the children and took his own mind off his frustration.

  During the week that followed, between intervals of sitting with Georgina, he made the children a toboggan track that curved down a long gentle slope; then got out from the coach house Georgina's beautiful sleigh, which was fashioned like a swan. Having had the lake swept of snow, he tied the two children firmly into the sleigh, then put on skates and propelled them round the long oval of ice at a speed that made them squeal with excitement and delight.

  These long days spent playing with the children gave him a pleasure that he had never previously experienced and dis­sipated the last doubts he had had about the wisdom of abandoning his adventurous life for good. Thankfully he realized that, the children still being so young, it was not too late to enjoy with them the best years of their lives. Soon his active mind began to make a hundred plans for their welfare and amusement and indulge in happy daydreams of a new carefree existence in which he would luck them up in bed every night and wake with his beloved Georgina beside him every morning.

  By January 8th Georgina's doctor declared her past all danger of a relapse. It was also Roger's birthday, so he and her father celebrated the double occasion by dining with her in her room. When in full health she was a ravishing creature with the full, voluptuous figure that was regarded in that Georgian age as the height of feminine beauty. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes nearly black—enormous and sparkling with vitality Her eyebrows were arched and her full, bright-red lips disclosed at a glance her passionate and tempestuous nature. Now, owing to her illness, she had lost several pounds in weight, her cheeks were a little hollow and her lips still pale from the over-bleeding which had been inflicted on her before, on Roger's return, he had put a stop to it. But her eyes looked larger than ever, her white, even teeth still flashed when she smiled and, in Roger's eyes, her pallor made her more than ever desirable.

  When they had finished dinner the Colonel left them. Roger then told her of his abortive mission and his decision to retire for good from Mr. Pitt's service.

  At that she shook her dark curls and laid a hand on his arm:

  'Dear Roger, disgust and disappointment may make you feel that way now, but I know you too well to believe that you would ever settle down for any length of time. 'Tis not in your nature, and you've been a rolling stone for too long. After a year or two the craving for excitement would drive you abroad again, if not for Mr. Pitt then on some other venture.'

  'Nay,' he assured her. 'I'd like nothing better than to be done for good with courts and camps. I'm sick unto death of living a lie and risking my life to no good purpose. I mean that. I vow it, and 'tis high time you married again. Let us be wed. Georgina, and live happily ever after.'

  She sighed, 'I would we could, but we've been over this time and again before; and you know full well that 'tis not alone my belief that you would not be long content to live an idle life that prevents my saying "yes". 'Tis only because we have never lived together for any length of time that we have never staled of one another, and when, at long intervals we are again united, both of us feel an immediate upsurge of desire for the other. The joy we derive from such a tenuous but enduring love far exceeds that to be hoped for from any marriage, and I count it too precious to jeopardize by becoming your wife.'

  Roger knew only too well the soundness of her argument; yet during the past week he had so persuaded himself that only marriage to her could bring him lasting happiness that he endeavoured desperately to allay her fears, arguing that, now they had both turned thirty and had had many love affairs, there was no longer the same risk that they would tire of one another physically and their marriage come to grief, through one of them developing a passion for someone else.

  Finding Georgina adamant to his pleas, he played his last card and said. 'It is two years now since we talked of this, and you said then that you must marry again so that young Charles could be brought up properly by a man; yet you are a widow still. And why? Obviously because you have failed to meet a man who you would care to have as a husband for yourself and as a father to the boy. Who better than myself could fill both roles: and even should your fears materialize that in time our desire for one another would wane, the children would form a lasting bond between us.’

  She remained silent for a moment, then she said gravely, 'Roger, my love, it grieves me greatly to have to tell you this; but at least I find some consolation in that after your two years' absence you must have thought it probable you would find me no longer a widow. I have found such a man. He courted nic all through the Fall, and although we are not yet married, we will be in the Spring.'

  His hopes now utterly dashed, Roger stared at her in dismay. Then, recovering himself, he murmured. 'If that is so, dear heart. 1 wish you every happiness. All I pray is that he be a man worthy of you. Who is this monstrous lucky fellow?'

  'A Mr. Beefy. He has...'

  'Beefy!' Roger broke in aghast. 'Georgina, you cannot! For you to marry a man with the ridiculous name of Beefy is unthinkable.'

  2

  War or Peace?

  Amazed and angry, Roger hurried on, 'You cannot mean it! For God's sake, Georgina, tell me you're joking, and I'll forgive the bad taste of your jest.'

  Giving him an indulgent smile, she replied, 'Nay, Roger, I am in earnest. If there be aught comic in this it is the expression on your face.'

  'But dam'me, woman, do you become Mrs. Beefy you'll be the butt of every wit—the laughing stock of London.'

  She shrugged her fine shoulders under the lace negligé. ‘I care not a fig for that. 'Tis character that counts. He is a man of high integrity: kind, generous, of a most amiable disposi­tion, only some ten years older than myself and handsome enough to please.'

  'Be he plain roast or boiled I care not,' Roger stormed. 'I've never even heard of the fellow, so he cannot be a man of any consequence, nor of a family that has any standing. What in the world can have induced you so to belittle yourself? You've long been a reigning toast and accounted one of the most beautiful women in England. You have brains and talent. Here and in London you entertain the most distinguished men in the realm. Statesmen and ambassadors seek your influence lo further their designs. You are very rich and will be still richer when your father dies. You have not only Stillwaters in your own right, but White Knights Park and the house in Berkeley Square as long as Charles remains a minor. By your first marriage you became Lady Etheridge, by your second the Countess of St. Ermins, and when you were a girl you vowed you would be a Duchess before your hair turned grey. Yet now..'

  Georgina threw back her dark curls and her gay laugh rang out. 'And maybe I will, should fate decree an early death for poor Mr. Beefy.' Then after a moment she added with a frown, 'Alas, on that score I have certain fears; for I have read his palm and saw in it that he will not live to make old bones.'

  Roger had had ample evidence of the psychic gifts Geor­gina had inherited from her gipsy mother, and he said quickly, 'What point is there then in giving young Charles a step-father who is doomed to an early death?'

  'That I did not imply,' she countered. 'Time, as you know, is difficult to assess by such hand readings. I know only that his death will be sudden but with luck it may not occur for ten years and, I pray, may be postponed much longer since I already feel a considerable affection for him.'

  'It seems he does not reciprocate that sentiment,' Roger remarked tersely. 'Else how is it that during your desperate illness h
e has not even shown the concern for you to make his appearance here?'

  'Since early December he has been in the West Indies. He has plantations there that are said to be worth a considerable fortune.'

  'But Georgina, you have no need of money, and for a woman like yourself even a sugar nabob is a nobody. Among your acquaintance there must be a score of distinguished men who could meet your requirements just as well as he and who would marry you tomorrow. Why? Why, in God's name, enter upon this mesalliance that will place you outside the pale of high society?'

  Her arched eyebrows lifted, giving her fair face an arrogant

  expression. 'Nothing, dearest Roger, could put me so far outside the pale that I could not re-enter it whenever I wished. At least I have personality enough for that. But recently I have become plaguey wearied of the fashionable world. Gaming has never attracted me and routs and balls are well enough for a young woman seeking to acquire a beau. Of them I've had my share and more; so it irks me now to be cornered on all occasions by gentlemen pressing me to go to bed with them. My good John Beefy will be the perfect antidote to that. I'll become a country girl, and still have my painting for recreation. Should I tire of cows we can always make a voyage to his estates in the Indies.'

  For a further half hour Roger argued with her; but it seemed that her mind was made up so, fearing that further talking would tire her too much, he kissed her good night. As he was about to leave her room she said:

  ‘I fear my father will take no more kindly to my intentions than yourself, and I have not yet told him of them; so I'd prefer that you made no mention of the matter.'

  With a cynical little smile Roger turned and made her a bow, 'About his attitude, Madame, you will undoubtedly prove right. And upon my discretion you may rely. I have never derived pleasure from noising abroad the follies of my friends.'

  Despite the flippancy of his last remark, as he undressed he was sorely troubled. It was bad enough that Georgina should have brought tumbling to the ground the castles in Spain that he had been building for the past week, but still worse that she should be building one herself on so obvious a quicksand. She had for so long been a sought-after beauty in the gay world of London that he could not believe that she would find contentment in a humdrum life, however pleasant a fellow this John Beefy might be: yet, knowing of old how self-willed she could be. he feared it most unlikely that she could be persuaded to change her mind.

  Still much disgruntled, early next morning he set out for London and by midday arrived at the Earl of Amesbury's mansion in Arlington Street. The Earl's tall, lanky son. Lord Edward Fitz-Dcvercl—known to his intimates as 'Droopy Ned' from the short sight which gave him a permanent stoop—was Roger's closest friend. On enquiry Roger learned that his Lordship was at home but not yet down, so he went straight up to the suite that Droopy occupied overlooking the Green Park.

  Clad in a voluminous silk robe, Turkish slippers and a turban, Droopy was about to sit down to breakfast. Hungry after his twenty-five mile ride Roger gladly accepted his friend's invitation to join him, and a footman was sent down for a second bottle of Claret.

  It was close on two years since they had met, so they had a hundred things to talk of and Roger had no secrets from Droopy. Between mouthfuls of Dover Sole, truffled Pheasant Pie and Pineapple grown in the Earl's hothouses at Normanrood, he first described the coup d'état of Brumaire then the expedition to Egypt.

  Droopy showed special interest in the latter as, unlike the majority of the young nobles of the day, he took no interest in racing or gambling and abhorred blood sports. Instead, he collected antique jewellery, experimented on himself with strange drugs imported from the East and employed his good brain in studying ancient religions. This last had led to his forming an Egyptian collection, including a mummy, and he could not hear enough about the archaeological discoveries made by the scientists that Bonaparte had taken with him on the expedition.

  At length Roger changed the subject to that of his current mission and. after he had been talking about it for some minutes, Droopy said 'Naturally, the knowledge of Bona­parte's offer and its rejection has not yet reached the hoi-poloi, but there will be a fine rumpus when it docs. As for Charles Fox and his cronies, they can scarce contain their impatience to make capital out of it.'

  Roger raised an eyebrow. 'You know already then of this business?'

  'Indeed, yes. These past few days it has been the main topic in the clubs.'

  'What is the general opinion in them?'

  'Some, like Billy Pitt, think it an attempt to trick us; the majority that the nation needs peace so badly that we should take a gamble on the Corsican's intentions being honourable, provided the price he asks for peace be not unreasonable. From what you tell me that is the case; so it is a tragedy that his past acts have so prejudiced our Government against him that they'll not listen to him now.'

  'In "prejudice" you've said the word,' declared Roger bitterly. 'They are so stuffed with their own righteousness that they'll not concede even the possibility of a man they have condemned being capable of using for the good of all the power he has won.'

  Droopy nodded his narrow head, 'Stout Tory as I am, I fear the trouble is that our Prime Minister has been too long in office. 'Tis seventeen years now since he formed his first Government, and because he has always taken so much upon himself every one of them has been a year of strain. Brilliant as he was, he has become worn out with anxieties. From the beginning he has been self-opinionated and autocratic; now he no longer brings his once fine mind to judge events impar­tially but continues his old policies with dogged inflexibility.'

  ‘I judge you right, Ned. Though I'd be loath to see him go, for I owe him much and have the greatest admiration for him. And who else have we? His cousin Grenville is little more than his mouthpiece on Foreign Affairs. Henry Dundas would act like a bull in a china shop. Addington is a poor weak fellow incapable of handling great issues. As for the Opposition, God forbid! From '89 Charles Fox became a partisan of "Liberty, Equality and Fraternity" with such enthusiasm that on all occasions since he has done his utmost to disrupt our war measures in favour of the French, and not long ago he publicly declared his sympathy with the extrem­ists here who would like to see Britain a Republic. Even so, 'tis a bitter pill that Mr. Pitt's blindness to present reality should compel me to return to France with the report that I have failed in my mission.'

  'How soon have you in mind to make the crossing?'

  'Within a few days now. In Paris they will already be becoming impatient at my delay, but will put it down to the British Government shilly-shallying. As in time of war there is no French Embassy here I came over in a Revenue cutter which now lies below Tower Bridge and temporarily serves that purpose. Tomorrow I shall apply for clearance.'

  Droopy Ned remained silent for a moment, then he said, 'I would not do that, Roger, but remain here yet awhile. Mr. Pitt is obliged to inform Parliament of General Bonaparte's offer and his refusal of it. In fact I learned at White's only yesterday that February 3rd has been settled on as the date for a debate on this matter. So strong is the feeling that a negotiated peace would be in the best interests of the country that, as a result of the debate, many Members may cross the floor of the House. That might well cause the fall of the Government. Should it do so you would, after all, be able to carry back to France a favourable reply to General Bona­parte's letter.'

  Roger looked up quickly. Droopy Ned was an exceedingly shrewd man and had often advised him well in the past. 'Since you think that,' he said. ‘I’ll certainly stay on. After the great services Mr. Pitt has rendered our country, I'd hate to see his Government fall. But to bring about the pacifica­tion of Europe is of far greater importance. To accompany me I was given a small staff, including a professional dip­lomat named Broussalt as my Counsellor. I'll send him back with an interim report and myself remain in England until the result of the debate is known.'

  'You will have nothing to lose by so doing,' Droopy said with a s
mile. ‘I’ll order your old room here to be prepared for you, and the longer you care to give me your company the happier I'll be. That is,' he added after a moment, 'unless you prefer to return to Stillwaters.'

  'I must do so, to collect my belongings. But now that Georgina is out of danger I had meant to make my adieux there in any case: so I'd be glad to accept your hospitality for a few nights. Not for longer, though, as my present position in London is an anomalous one. Here I am naturally known as Roger Brook, but there must be diplomats now accredited to the Court of St. James whom I have met abroad. Did I run into one of them he would assume me to be Colonel Breuc, and for my future security the fewer people to whom I have to explain that they have mistaken me for my French cousin, the better. As things are I'll take the opportunity to visit my old father at Lymington, then return here early in February.'

  That afternoon Roger wrote his despatch, breaking the bad news to Talleyrand that the British Government were averse to entering into negotiations, then adding that a debate in Parliament on February 3rd might cause th-; fall of the Government, so he was remaining on with the somewhat slender hope that he would be able to return to France in mid-February with better tidings.

  The following morning he waited on Lord Grenville at the Foreign Office and obtained clearance for his cutter, then went down river in a wherry to the ship. Having informed his Counsellor of the situation and handed over to him the papers he had brought, he returned to Amesbury House and dined tete-a-tete with Droopy Ned.

  Next day he rode out to Richmond Park to visit Thatched House Lodge, a charming 'Grace and Favour’ residence of which Mr. Pitt had given him the life tenancy as a reward for his services in the early days of the Revolution, when he had caused the National Assembly to annul the Bourbon 'Family Compact' by which treaty France was obliged to enter on war with England as the ally of Spain.

  He had spent only a few nights there since he had lost his wife, Amanda, in December '95, but had left his faithful henchman, the ex-smuggler Dan Izzard, there, with a house­keeper, to keep the place up during his absence.